Catharsis
by Loryn Wilde
Summary: When Qui Gon and Obi Wan are captured by an evil man, Obi Wan is tortured in both mind and body. They are able to escape, but can Qui Gon really set his Padawan free?
1. Catharsis: 1

Catharsis  
by Loryn Wilde  
Timeframe: Obi Wan is 16  
Summary: When Qui Gon and Obi Wan are captured by a dangerous, evil man, Obi Wan is tortured in both mind and body. They are able to escape, but can Qui Gon really set his Padawan free?  
(That was unforgivably corny.)  
Rating: PG-13 for violence.  
Feedback: A resounding yes!!!  
Disclaimer: All recognizable characters and words technically, I suppose, belong to Fox or George Lucas or somebody, but don't they belong to us all? In the grand scheme of things, I mean? Deep down you understand.  
  
Catharsis: 1  
  
Qui Gon Jinn could hear the screaming through the walls.  
  
It pained him, but he could do nothing for it; not now. The Force had been taken from him. Now he could feel only inklings of it, frail strands that seeped into his being and left him as soon as he tried to get a firm grasp on them. Slowly, deliberately, he was gathering them, willing them closer and binding them together. Some were brittle and crumbled at his touch, but doggedly he continued, seeking the strong ones and drawing them to him. Already, he could feel the comforting buzz of the Living Force at the back of his mind.  
  
He sat in the center of the dank cell, legs folded in front of him, face relaxed and eyes closed. Still dressed in his Jedi robes, long hair pulled neatly back and away from his face, he seemed almost untouched by the surrounding filth of the cell. His hands rested loosely on his knees; with a glance one could assume he was dozing.  
  
So far he had achieved some success with not letting the heart wrenching pleas from the other room interfere with his work, but a sudden sharp cry, followed by harsh sobs, pierced through his concentration. Qui Gon's eyes flew open and he cocked his head at the sudden silence. There was something else happening in the next room and he strained his ears to hear what it was.  
  
He could only just make out the words, soft as they were. He recognized both voices. The first was the man responsible for this, Bro'ven Shahn. Qui Gon could feel the evil he emanated even from where he sat. It seemed to creep right through the cracks in the filthy stone wall. He tone was condescending, cruel. Qui Gon could almost see the malevolent smile which most certainly must have twisted the Rii'Diarian's lips as he spoke.  
  
The other voice was even more difficult to understand and he cringed at the raggedness of it. The respite from torture only lasted a moment, if that. The raw screams soon returned.  
  
Qui Gon closed his eyes and released a long breath. There was no doubt in his mind that he could stop that cruelty. He had that power. A sorrowful ache spiked through him at that thought. More than anything, he wanted to end the pain, or, at the very least, replace its recipient with himself.  
  
But he could do neither.  
  
They knew the boy was important to him; they knew Qui Gon made the decisions. They sought to hurt him through the boy's torture. Qui Gon allowed himself a bitter smile.  
  
They were hurting him, all right. Each agonized moan, cry, and scream killed him a little more. A sad pride filled him as he thought back to earlier (had it been three hours? four?), when he had been allowed to remain with his student. Obi Wan had not let out a peep, and the means used to break him had been considerable. The ache in Qui Gon's heart grew as he tried to imagine what damage must be inflicted on his student to make him scream the way he did.  
  
Qui Gon resettled himself on the cool stone floor and closed his eyes. He did not want to imagine. With fresh determination, he returned to his work. 


	2. Catharsis: 2

1 Disclaimers and warnings in first chapter.  
  
2 Catharsis: 2  
  
Obi Wan had awoken moments ago, but had yet to open his eyes. The stone floor was icy against his too warm skin and he shivered miserably, pressing his cheek to it as nausea roiled through him. He firmly set his swollen lips together and grit his teeth, fighting back the bile which strove to claim him once more. When the surge had faded to a manageable rolling in his stomach, he slowly opened his eyes.  
  
Focus was evasive, so he settled his gaze on the rusting pair of chains on the far wall. So far, they had gone unused. They fuzzed out and cleared as his eyes saw fit and he made no attempt to remedy the problem.  
  
Obi Wan struggled to get a firm grasp on the Force but it seemed to recoil from him. He was left alone.  
  
He thought that it was no wonder, remembering his early behavior. He cringed, realizing the hoarseness in his throat was most likely a result of his childish crying. He felt shameful and humiliated. A Jedi would not have screamed. More importantly, Qui Gon would not have screamed.  
  
He closed his eyes shut and moaned softly in anguish.  
  
Where was Qui Gon? Why had his master left him? He remembered the pale blue eyes so clearly, steadying him as the torture wore on, until they were all that existed outside the haze of agony, the sharp cords digging into his torn wrists, the cruel, biting coil of stripped wire layering welt upon welt on his bared back. He remembered vaguely sensing their captor, Bro'ven Shahn, standing to the side and his master seemed to be speaking with him. He did not recall any words being said, there was no sound outside his own haggard breathing and grunts at the reception of each blow. Obi Wan had closed his eyes, he had thought only for a moment, but when he opened them his master was gone.  
  
Terror had seized him, then, curling its icy fingers around his aching limbs and pulling him far down into its depths. He felt all hope leave him, all the sense he had, all the capacity for coherent thought flicker and, like the dying flame of a candle, was snuffed out, leaving him prey to the vicious, maw-like perils of fear and suffering. He could not even conjure up an image of the man they repeatedly asked him about, much less give a name, a place.  
  
Obi Wan had searched the faces of the Rii'Diarian men beating him one by one, frantically looking for Qui Gon, until one laced his long fingers in the adolescent's matted hair and jerked his head upwards cruelly.  
  
"He left. You're all alone," he sneered into Obi Wan's ear, and the young Jedi felt a sudden crack in his knee and pain blossomed and ate up his leg like fire.  
  
That was what pushed Obi Wan over the edge. He released the last thread of control he had latched onto and it was incinerated in the waves of agony he unleashed. In a way, it felt good, and in the back of his mind he dimly thought that it was somewhat similar to releasing one's tension to the Force, this vocalization of his pain. He had let it consume him without a thought, relishing the simplicity of it all. He wondered only why he had not done it sooner. There was no effort involved in this way, no requirement for him to think, to concentrate on what came out of his mouth. He simply shut down and took what punishments they gave him.  
  
Obi Wan shuddered at the memory, self-loathing rushed over him. He felt horrified that he had given up so easily, and was suddenly very glad that Qui Gon had not been with him to witness it. He could clearly see the look of disgust which most certainly would have passed over the master's face, a result of seeing his student give in.  
  
Salty tears stung the open wounds on Obi Wan's face and he grimaced at the spiteful return of his weakness. He sobbed once more and curled his hand into a fist, weakly pounding it on the floor, deliberately jarring the injuries on his shoulder, feeding them to take his mind away from the thoughts of his failure.  
  
  
  
It might have been a day; it might have been a week. Qui Gon had spent so much time in meditation he felt that he surely deserved a commendation from the council. Obi Wan would certainly be impressed.  
  
A dull ache lanced through him at the thought of his apprentice. He could no longer hear the boy, but could feel him through the bond they shared. Qui Gon frowned. When he tried to reach him, Obi Wan seemed to shy away from his touch. He knew the youth was there but could not make contact with him. He assumed his padawan was very weak, especially without the Force at his command. It had taken Qui Gon so much time and concentration to regain the power he know had, certainly Obi Wan had not been that lucky. Still, he should have been able to touch the boy's mind.  
  
Unless he had not gathered as much power as he thought. Qui Gon closed his eyes and stretched his senses. He could feel-  
  
A table.  
  
A guard, very relaxed, toying with Qui Gon's lightsaber.  
  
Three doors; one led out to a long hall. that was the way out. Another led to his padawan, and the other to his own cell. Bro'ven Shahn was no where.  
  
Big mistake, Shahn. Qui Gon smiled grimly and stood. He flexed his muscles quickly and stretched, popping his shoulders. Get the guard, get Obi Wan, get out. Bro'ven Shahn could be back at any time and, as powerful as the temptation to have a square go with the Rii'Diarian was, his padawan's safetly came first.  
  
He calmed himself and used a powerful surge of Force suggestion to create a strong sense of disquiet in the Rii'Diarian outside. It wasn't long before the locks on his door were decoded and it slid open. The man was extremely uneasy, Qui Gon could feel his apprehension clearly. He was very pleased with the amount of control he had and, channeling a bit of his power through his hand, flicked his wrist slightly. The blaster the Rii'Diarian held was jerked from his hand and sent clattering across the stone floor.  
  
The guard did not say a thing. He merely glanced at his weapon, now out of reach, and looked back at Qui Gon. He raised his hands into the air above his head and said flatly, "I don't want any trouble."  
  
Qui Gon suppressed a growl and advanced upon the man. He shoved him roughly against the wall and began feeling in pockets.  
  
"You should have thought of that before you got yourself into this."  
  
He found a key and knew it was for both his and Obi Wan's cells.  
  
  
  
"Shahn is away," he stated, "Tell me when he plans to return."  
  
"About a standard hour," the man said readily.  
  
Qui Gon probed the man's mind briefly, only just deeply enough to know he was being truthful. He was irked by the easy helpfulness the other was showing him. Surely, this couldn't be the same being who had sauntered into his cell every few hours with the same question?  
  
"Where's that minister hiding?"  
  
"You'll have to tell us soon."  
  
"You can't hold any sort of personal affection for the man. Why don't you just tell us which rock he's hiding under and help out your kid? Bro'ven's getting a little carried away in there."  
  
If truth be told, Qui Gon was not at all fond of the Rii'Diarian he and Obi Wan were protecting. He was obnoxious and uncompassionate. He put himself before others and tended to focus on the bills and laws which would make his state more money instead of helping the people in it.  
  
But, Qui Gon's personal feelings were of no importance. He and Obi Wan had been sent to protect the man, and that is what they would do. Even if it ripped the Jedi Master's heart in two.  
  
"You-You're not going to hurt me-right?" the man asked fearfully his cool exterior gone at the stoic expression on Qui Gon's face.  
  
The Jedi pushed him away in disgust and left the cell, shutting and locking it behind him with his former keeper inside.  
  
Quickly, he found his and Obi Wan's lightsabers and clipped them to his belt. He slipped the key into the lock on Obi Wan's door and it swished open. He stepped inside.  
  
Qui Gon very nearly staggered under the weight of sheer hurt in the room; it swirled about him, seeming to twist and distort the very air he breathed. It was physical pain and self-loathing, shame and fear. Qui Gon pushed it aside firmly, like clearing a pathway in heavy underbrush. He palmed the lights and stepped forward.  
  
"Obi Wan?"  
  
This cell was similar to his; rusting chains hung from the wall to his left and it was roughly the same size, but a dirty tunic and robe were balled up in the corner, and there was a mess where someone had been sick near the center of the floor. Also, there was a shelf of some kind jutting out of the wall to his right, wedged into a corner. Upon closer inspection, he realized that it was not a shelf at all, but more likely a crude cot or table of some kind. He lightly brushed his fingers on the sticky red smears that covered it. The Jedi closed his eyes briefly, swallowing his fury. Slowly, he knelt to the ground, gripping the edge of the table for support.  
  
"Obi Wan," he repeated, his words no more than a sigh. The sixteen year old was huddled beneath the table, one knee pulled to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around himself. His eyes stared vacantly ahead, the pits smudged with darkness. The face was drawn and pinched, dirty and bruised. Qui Gon frowned at how pallid the fair skin had become. Obi Wan made no sign that he was aware of his master's presence. Qui Gon touched the youth's shoulder lightly and found him to be trembling delicately. The bare skin was cool to his touch so he stood to retrieve the boy's robe.  
  
"Leaving again?"  
  
The bitter words stopped him and he turned.  
  
"What?" He returned to his spot on the floor and found the blue green orbs of his apprentice fastened on his own, glistening with tears.  
  
"You-You left me," Obi Wan said helplessly. "They hurt me."  
  
Qui Gon was shaking his head before the boy could finish. "No, Obi Wan, never! Never. I would never leave you. They took me away; don't you remember? I've just been in the next cell over." He took the boy's pinched face into his hands, brushing away the tears that escaped. He gave the gentle cleft in Obi Wan's chin an affectionate rub with his thumb.  
  
"I've spent the past-" he faltered, and found he had no idea how long he had spent in meditation. He realized, with a pang, that in a sense he had left poor Obi Wan alone, though he told himself he had had no choice. He had turned all his attention to getting back control of the Force. The rumble in his stomach told him it had been some time since he had last been fed; he postulated at least two days since he had last seen Obi Wan since Shahn had taken to feeding him once daily. He breathed deeply and started again.  
  
"I've regained my Force power, Obi Wan. Shahn isn't here; we can leave now. Can you walk?"  
  
In shame, Obi Wan dropped his gaze, shook his head. He gestured at the leg splayed out in front of him. "My knee, it's-they broke it." He shook his head in chagrin and went on brokenly, "I'm so sorry, Master."  
  
"No, Obi Wan," Qui Gon said steadily, casting about for something to use to brace the leg with, "Don't be sorry. Don't try to move, Padawan. I'll be right back."  
  
The youth nodded and Qui Gon stood. He left the cell and made a fair mess of the room outside, searching for something to help ease Obi Wan's pain.  
  
***  
  
Thanks for all those excellent reviews, guys! I came on thinking I should take the story off the site when I saw them, and was ecstatic! They were really encouraging. You're all very sweet. 


	3. Catharsis: 3

Note: I really feel that I should thank everyone for all their kind words. You have no idea how nice it was see them, especially since I'm having such a difficult time with this fic, which you will probably notice in this chapter. I think it is just o.k., and I may do a rewrite on it. Tell me what you think. Anyway, thanks for bothering to read it in the first place!  
  
Catharsis: 3  
  
Qui Gon looked out the window to the gray skies, frowning. The clouds had looked ready to burst for well over an hour, but had not squeezed out one drop of rainwater. Lightening flickered and a throaty rumble of thunder followed in reply. Rii'Diaria was infamous for its severe and frequent storms, and the Jedi Master could sense a particularly intense one was on its way. The owner of the hostel he and Obi Wan had sought shelter at told them they were lucky to have found him; no one should be out in the middle of a storm like the one coming. Just looking at the heavy clouds made the hairs on the back of Qui Gon's neck stand on end.  
  
While searching at Shahn's for something to brace Obi Wan's leg with, he had found just enough credits to afford them a night at a boarding house and a modest meal. He glanced at Obi Wan's plate, which remained untouched. The journey, relatively short as it was, had been grueling for him. He was very weak, and Qui Gon had ended up bearing most of his weight. He remembered all too clearly the lines of pain etched onto the fiercely determined face. He had collapsed twice, seemingly unable to continue, and Qui Gon resorted to sending him bursts of Force energy to sustain him.  
  
Since Rii'Diaria's population was so sparse, Qui Gon had been infinitely relieved to find the small hostel, and once they had rented a room, he settled Obi Wan on the couch and went to the room's communication unit. He contacted the Jedi Temple and made the council aware of their situation. They immediately dispatched another Master/Padawan team to escort Minister Kai to and from the trial proceedings. They also found him a new safe house, which Qui Gon knew nothing about.  
  
Qui Gon couldn't help but not give a damn, for any of it.  
  
The Force was slowly returning to his apprentice and a number of emotions strained against the sluggishly opening bond into Qui Gon's mind.  
  
He felt, firstly, faint traces of misery from his apprentice; then pain. Then dread. He set his plate down on the table of the den and looked at his padawan. The boy had said no more than five words since they left Shahn's, and answered questions with a vague nod or shake of his head. He was curled sideways on the couch, Qui Gon had covered him with his own robe, eager to dispel the youth's uncontrollable shaking. His dazed eyes were staring fixedly at a mark on the wall, wide and glazed looking. His broken leg was stretched out before him, supported by two pillows. His sprained wrist was cradled against his chest; the two broken fingers stiff and red like claws.  
  
The first words that came to Qui Gon's mind were 'empty shell.' He realized, with a pang that was becoming familiar to him, that Obi Wan was exactly that.  
  
"Obi Wan?"  
  
The boy did not respond.  
  
Qui Gon heaved a haggard sigh and passed a hand over his face. He stood and went to see if he could not find bandages or ointments for his padawan's wounds.  
  
***  
  
Obi Wan Kenobi was remembering.  
  
The Force was not as skittish around him as it was before, and he had gratefully let himself slip into a somewhat shaky trance. His mind had been blissfully empty and void of thought for a long time, but then it had treacherously wandered back to sift through memories of the past few days.  
  
He remembered how they had strapped him down to that table and cut him with a vibro shiv, cruelly remarking the already bruised skin. He remembered the pursed lips of the man who did it, the furrow of concentration visible on his brow.  
  
They shocked him with an electro-prod, harshly slamming the buzzing stick down on his abdomen, watching him struggle against his restraints as his muscles seized, cramped, and spasmed.  
  
They had forced him to swallow something thick and yellow and revoltingly bitter, holding his nose so his mouth would have to open. It had made him terribly sick, and his vision had remained blurry for a long time, hours, while he retched and dry heaved between beatings.  
  
Each recollection tore him a little more.  
  
He slipped deeper.  
  
* * *  
  
"Obi Wan." Qui Gon knelt beside his apprentice. "Obi Wan, I'm going to clean your wounds, now." He waited for a response from the teen. He felt a lump rise in his throat at the hollow look in the boy's eyes. "Obi Wan, please." He nudged at the still widening bond between them and found that all attempts to contact his padawan or send comfort through the Force were rejected, shattering against steel like barriers in the adolescent's mind.  
  
"Obi Wan, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry you were left alone." He touched the dirty ginger hair, brushed his fingers lightly along the bruises of the thin cheek, and finally curved his broad hand around the slender nape of Obi Wan's neck, trying to warm the resistant flesh by sheer will. He gently pulled Obi Wan forward and unhooked the rigid fingers from his own robe. Then he peeled away Obi Wan's, careful of the cloth that stuck to the wet welts on the boy's back.  
  
He lightly pressed his palm on the ravaged, heated skin, sending soothing energies to the wounds. Qui Gon was no healer, but was determined to comfort his padawan in any way he could.  
  
There had been balm in the refresher, and he smoothed the cool oil on Obi Wan's back. The effect was immediate; dirt and blood began to ooze out from the cuts, and Qui Gon carefully wiped it away with a clean, moist rag.  
  
As he worked, Qui Gon talked softly to his apprentice, unable to stand the stifling silence. Knowing any attempts at a conversation would prove to be fruitless, he voiced his thoughts, hoping to clear his head.  
  
"Kai will be safe with Master Theza, I don't doubt it. Shahn will never find him in time for the trial." His movements were rhythmic, gently digging at the grime and coaxing it out.  
  
"Still," he went on, pausing to glance out the window at the ominously dark sky, "I can't help but feel something is wrong, something is going to happen."  
  
It was more than a feeling. The moment they escaped Shahn's the Force had been whispering to him, tugging at his mind, telling him to beware. He shook his head and resumed cleaning.  
  
"I can't figure out what it is. We'll leave for the Mienke Sector tomorrow, get the shuttle, and go." He repeated the words and nodded resolutely, pushing his suspicions to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on Obi Wan. He stilled his hand and sighed.  
  
This was no good.  
  
"Obi Wan," he said quietly, gently pushing at their bond, putting a persistant pressure on the boy's shields. "Padawan, I'm here." He put the rag down and moved around to face his apprentice, sitting on the edge of the couch, careful of the outstretched leg. He took Obi Wan's chin in his hand and lifted the head up, forced the dull eyes to meet his own.  
  
"Obi Wan. Stop this." He struggled to keep his voice firm. The long lashes of the boy before him fluttered and brushed against the bone paleness of his cheeks. Qui Gon touched his padawan's shoulders, gripping them in faint desperation, before his hands roamed back to the young man's blank face; as if by touch he could restore the unresponsive husk with spirit and life. He pleaded silently with the stronghold of barriers which guarded Obi Wan's mind, cursed Bro'ven Shahn for his horrific cruelty, and berated himself for not having been there for his student.  
  
"I'm here, Padawan," he said ardently, "Obi Wan, you're not alone."  
  
* * *  
  
Obi Wan shuddered and drew in a hitching, labored breath. He raised his gaze to Qui Gon's and blinked. It was as if he saw his master for the first time.  
  
The older man's face was lined and creased with worry and concern. Dark smudges cupped tired pale blue eyes like half moons. He felt the echo of something in a far corner of his mind, something so familiar and just out of reach it made him ache. He searched for the source and discovered the nagging was his bond with his master. Qui Gon was trying to reach him.  
  
Obi Wan held his initial joy at arm's length and tentatively reached for his master through the bond. His endeavor clumsily bounced off walls he had not realized were there. He struggled to gain control over the shields, and as soon as he did they crumbled with an abruptness with startled him. He was immediately cast in the warmth of his master's caring. It was a shock to his system, this sudden rush of Force power and the light of the older Jedi was like dawn, driving away the shadows of abandonment; the icy, numb feeling of loneliness. It fought back his doubts and they receded. It assuaged his grief and soothed his aches. The turmoil inside the young Jedi was eased and finally it dissipated, was replaced by a peaceful calm, gently lapping at the leftover fragments of his desolateness like mild waves on a beach, and carried them away to be lost in the wake of his master's compassion.  
  
* * *  
  
Obi Wan sagged against his master with a woeful sob.  
  
"Obi Wan!" Qui Gon cried. He had felt the shields fall, saw the youth's pain. He continued to send encouraging waves of love and peace to the trembling figure leaning against him. He had caught fleeting images of what had been done to Obi Wan. The worries and fears the young Jedi had carried with him even after Qui Gon rescued him made the older man's heart ache. He folded his arms around the boy and bent his head to rest his cheek on the ginger hair.  
  
"Oh, child," he said helplessly, knowing what he had to say, but at a loss as to where he should begin. "Oh, my dear child."  
  
Somehow he had made himself believe it was not as bad as it had looked. Somehow he had made himself forget what he had seen with his own eyes, what he had heard even after the separation. What he saw when he first found Obi Wan. He was horrified at both himself, for not coming to his student sooner, and Shahn, for inflicting such misery on his padawan. He floundered for words to comfort the boy but found none.  
  
Qui Gon simply held him tighter. 


	4. Catharsis: 4

Note: Since I can't get italics to show up on this fool thing, sections surrounded by * * *'s and little ~ things are recollections. I swear to gawd, the italics thing just wasn't working so I apologize if that makes the story incoherent or something.  
  
1  
  
2 Catharsis: 4  
  
* * *  
  
~"I just-just didn't know what to think, Master," Obi-Wan said, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders in apology. "You were there and then-" he paused and dropped his gaze.  
  
"You were gone. I didn't know what to think," he finished quietly.  
  
Qui-Gon nodded slowly. It bothered him to think that Obi-Wan might have reason to hold such little faith in him.  
  
"I didn't want to believe it, Master," Obi-Wan said hastily, sensing the disquiet. His eyes were wide and honest. "But everything that was happening- there was no room to think."~  
  
* * *  
  
Qui-Gon studied the face of his slumbering apprentice. It was relaxed, the tight lines of pain had finally smoothed away, leaving Obi-Wan in temporary peace.  
  
He brushed the backs of his fingers over one warm cheek and wondered how much their talk had actually helped the young man.  
  
Obi-Wan had always carried doubts with him, but the fresh uncertainties that had arisen with recent circumstances were overwhelming. Qui-Gon had done his best to soothe the boy's fears before exhaustion had finally caught up with the both of them.  
  
Reluctantly, Qui-Gon moved back to his chair and blanket. It was no contest between the two of them who deserved the rather plush sleep couch. The chair was close, in case Obi-Wan needed help getting to the refresher again.  
  
Qui-Gon learned that Shahn had force-fed his Padawan something neither Jedi could identify. Obi-Wan could tell his Master only that it was yellow, thick, and tasted "like bantha droppings."  
  
* * *  
  
~Qui Gon continued to rub his hand over Obi-Wan's back, soothing the violent tremors, and smiled.  
  
"Padawan," he admonished, "I'm curious to find out how you would know what such a thing might even smell like. I'm quite certain that that particular item is not sold anywhere we've eaten. Especially one of the Temple's cafeterias."  
  
Obi-Wan shot his Master a pained glance.  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
Qui-Gon sobered. "Are you all right?"  
  
Obi-Wan dragged the back of his hand across cracked lips and nodded.  
  
"For now."~  
  
* * *  
  
Whatever it was, it had made the teenager violently sick twice already that night.  
  
Qui-Gon settled himself in the chair silently, squaring his shoulders against the back of it with an appreciative pop.  
  
He had done what he could for Obi-Wan's wounds: putting firm pressure on the dislocated fingers until they moved painfully back into place, putting ice on the bruises, bandaging the cuts; all the while offering comfort to his stricken Padawan.  
  
They had moved through some of Obi-Wan's fears, Qui-Gon let the boy tentatively explain what he thought had been his shortcomings and then the Master would counter it with how he thought it had been handled. Qui-Gon soon realized he had much of his own anger to deal with and made note to examine it when Obi-Wan was settled.  
  
* * *  
  
~"My fear-Master, I let it get the better of me. I gave in." Obi-Wan fought the lump that formed in his throat at the memory.  
  
"Perhaps not as much as you thought you did, Padawan. Do I need to remind you that you never told them what they wanted to know?" Weathered blue eyes held blue- green until Obi-Wan abruptly slid his gaze to the window.  
  
"I don't think I could have, Master," he said softly. "I think I went mad for a short while, it-They just wouldn't stop."  
  
Obi-Wan pressed his lips together in a thin line, waiting for a reply. He was not sure what to expect; he could easily see Qui-Gon agreeing or disagreeing with him.  
  
Whatever his Master thought, Obi-Wan could tell by the deliberate manner in which Qui-Gon applied ointment to the deep cut on his hand that the older man was carefully planning his next words.  
  
"Obi-Wan," he finally said, "You are sixteen." He looked up at the apprentice. "While at times your level of maturity and the depth and fervor with which you embrace your training amazes me, you cannot expect to live your life completely without fear. No one can."  
  
"Yes, Master, but-"  
  
Qui Gon held up a hand.  
  
"Let me finish. You are still learning to control that fear. You are still learning so many things. Do not be ashamed of yourself.  
  
"Besides," he added with a wry grin and gentle tug on Obi-Wan's braid, "If you could do so much already, Yoda would have been urging you to take me as your Padawan Learner."~  
  
* * *  
  
A low chuckle rumbled out of Qui-Gon's throat as he recalled the delighted laugh Obi-Wan had rewarded him with.  
  
His gaze drifted back to the still form on the bed and his smile faded.  
  
He was grateful his Obi-Wan was returning to him, especially at such a rapid pace, but thoughts of the long journey they would begin in the morning uneased him.  
  
Though his mind was on the mend, the young Padawan was in no physical shape for any kind of traveling. The one to the Mienke Sector would take several hours, but Qui-Gon suspected the trek would take much longer and be very difficult, due to the young man's present limitations. He would have to remind himself not to pick the boy up and simply carry him.  
  
They had discussed the next day's plans before Obi-Wan had first fallen asleep.  
  
* * *  
  
~Qui-Gon sat on the edge of Obi-Wan's sleep couch, smoothing his fingers through the damp, ginger hair.  
  
"Feel better to be clean?"  
  
Obi-Wan nodded.  
  
Qui-Gon sighed and dropped his hands in his lap.  
  
"I've just spoken to the owner. He gave me a map-" Qui Gon jerked his thumb in the direction of the folded durasheet he had tossed onto the table upon entering. "He says it should be about four hours on foot. There's a public transport that comes by every hour, but we used up all of our credits on renting the room."  
  
Obi-Wan worried at his bottom lip, unsure if the suggestion he had in mind would be at all ethical.  
  
A slight smile tugged at Qui-Gon's lips and he shook his head, wagging his finger at his Padawan in mock reprove.  
  
"I toyed with that idea myself," he said, giving forth a short bark of laughter. "But, no. The transport is droid controlled, so I'm afraid there is no chance of a 'free' ride."  
  
Obi-Wan nodded again, idly playing with the frayed hem of his robe Qui-Gon had covered him with as he listened.  
  
Qui-Gon took a deep breath and let it gust out past his lips.  
  
"So, we're going to have to walk. I regret that I will not be able to help you much with the pain, Padawan. I'll do what I can, of course, and we'll rest often-"  
  
"Master, it's all right," Obi-Wan said solemnly. His eyes glittered in the dim light and he reached for his mentor. Qui Gon responded immediately, nearly engulfing the slim hand with his own broad one.  
  
"I can't help but feel like I'm being tested," he admitted. " So far I haven't done as well as I would have liked, but I'm ready for this. I know I can make it. What you've done for me tonight has really helped, and I thank you for the self-assurance I feel now."  
  
Qui-Gon smiled and patted the youth's hand.  
  
"I'm so glad to hear you say that, Padawan. But you'll have to remember to be patient with yourself. Your leg is broken-"  
  
The blue-green eyes were fierce and resolute. "I can do it, Qui-Gon." His voice was firm.  
  
Qui-Gon could not help but swell with pride at the courage his Padawan was revealing to him.  
  
His Padawan.  
  
A surge of joy coursed through him alongside the pride.  
  
Was this the same child whom he had held in his arms only hours before? The same trembling, frightened and confused boy was now steady and sure. Qui- Gon was awed at how quickly Obi-Wan had bounced back.  
  
He squeezed his Padawan's hand. The slender fingers tightened in response to his grip.  
  
"Yes, you can, Obi-Wan. Yes, you can."~  
  
* * *  
  
Qui-Gon smiled. He pulled the blanket up the bristly hairs on his chin and closed his eyes.  
  
They would deal with the morning when it came. 


	5. Catharsis: 5

1 Note: I would like to thank whoever is still reading this poorly written, badly thought out, slipshod story, lol. I'm going by the seat of my pants with this one.  
  
2  
  
3 Catharsis: 5  
  
Each step sent stabbing pains through his leg, and his breathing had been reduced to little more than strangled gasps, but Obi-Wan trudged onward. He had knotted one hand in the fabric of his tunic over his chest, as if that would ease his haggard panting.  
  
It had begun to rain again moments ago, a steady downpour that adequately reflected the Padawan's miserable state. They had only been walking for two hours, but Obi-Wan's consciousness had seemed to dwindle and narrow down to the single speck on the horizon that represented the Mienke Sector, their intended destination. He reminded himself that, once there, all they needed to do was find the Republican cruiser they had arrived in and he could sleep; escape the agony he felt.  
  
His insides seemed to have turned to mush, sloshing about and churning within him. He had almost been sick again soon after they had departed from the boarding house, but the feeling had passed, leaving him weary and shaken.  
  
The land of Rii'Diaria was marshy and wet, sludge and mud clung to Obi- Wan's boots and trousers. It was also incredibly flat, with lots of low brush and a few tall trees dotting the landscape.  
  
Oh, Force, but this was hard.  
  
He stumbled but caught his footing before he could fall. Pain lanced through his injured leg and he steeled himself against it, grinding his teeth together in an instinctive and useless attempt to distract himself from the sharp pangs.  
  
A grating cough escaped him and he grimaced. His head drooped forward and down, but his eyes remained transfixed on his goal.  
  
It was so far away! Obi-Wan's heart sank as he realized that they had not even reached the halfway point and he was overly exhausted.  
  
He felt a gentle weight on his shoulder, stilling him. Obi-Wan stopped walking but could not rip his eyes away from Mienke.  
  
"We'll rest under that tree."  
  
The words were soft and the breath warm against his ear.  
  
Obi-Wan -knew- that if he looked away from that painfully slow growing spot in the distance he very well might collapse, so he did not. Somewhere he found the energy to bob his head.  
  
Hands guided him away, off the trail. Obi-Wan craned his neck to keep the Mienke Sector in sight, but Qui-Gon softly nudged his head forward.  
  
"It's not going anywhere. You're doing well, Obi-Wan."  
  
The quiet encouragement eased the apprentice a little, and he let his Master escort him under the cover of the thick branches. Not much rainwater was able to penetrate the foliage above.  
  
A palm pressed at the chilled skin of his nape, silently directing him to sit. Obi-Wan gratefully sank to the ground, hardly noticing its cold wetness under his soaking robe. He shivered and hunched his shoulders.  
  
He was vaguely aware of Qui-Gon settling beside him, and did not protest when the older Jedi put an arm around him.  
  
His leg throbbed in agony. His head swam from the exertion. His chest hurt. Breathing came with the feeling of sharp daggers piercing his lungs.  
  
Obi-Wan was cold. He felt benumbed and insentient. He longed for the peace he had felt the previous night. He had slept over nine hours but now felt as if he had been walking for days.  
  
He shivered again. Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached inward for some semblance of tranquility.  
  
Immediately, Qui-Gon was there, shushing his frustrations and guiding him to his center. Soon his pain lessened and Obi-Wan threw his Master a tired smile in gratitude.  
  
Qui-Gon caught the Padawan's chin in his hand and tilted the face upwards. He examined his apprentice's eyes carefully.  
  
Obi-Wan sat up straighter under the scrutiny, but Qui-Gon was not fooled.  
  
"You cannot keep going like this."  
  
Obi-Wan's face fell.  
  
"Yes, I can." He felt stymied at the hoarseness of his voice and pressed his nails into his palms, annoyed with himself. "You even said I could-"  
  
"You have the spirit, Padawan, but I'm concerned about what this is physically costing you."  
  
Obi-Wan said nothing.  
  
Qui-Gon thinned his lips to a tight line. It was all too easy for him to see Obi-Wan's suffering. While he held nothing but respect for the dogged determination in the youth, he could not let this continue unaided. He had watched as his Padawan's lucid thoughts had deteriorated into something monotonous and numb while they trekked through the rain and mud.  
  
"But we don't have a choice," he murmured, "Do we?"  
  
Obi-Wan remained silent, unsure how to respond. He sensed his Master's agitation at the situation through their bond and could see it in the thin lines around the older man's mouth.  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head and leaned forward to inspect his Padawan's leg. The knee was red and swollen despite the firm brace he had fitted. The Master placed his fingertips lightly on it and Obi-Wan winced sharply. Qui-Gon sent cooling waves of energy to the shattered bone inside, trying to persuade the injury to heal faster.  
  
"Master-"  
  
"Hush, Obi-Wan. Relax."  
  
Qui-Gon slipped his hand inside the boy's tunic and pressed his palm flat on the cold chest. He could feel the slight tremors running through the Padawan and wished for the rain to finish its business.  
  
The warmth of the Force flowed between them and Qui-Gon felt some of the tension in his student decline. He pulled back.  
  
"Better?" He raised a brow in inquiry.  
  
Obi-Wan exhaled shakily. He raised his eyes to meet Qui-Gon's and nodded.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Let's keep going."  
  
* * *  
  
Qui-Gon guessed that at least five hours had passed since they left. It had stopped raining since their rest, but the clouds still loomed heavily above them. Qui-Gon could not help but feel somewhat condemned and helpless under the power he knew they held.  
  
Obi-Wan was on his right side, leaning heavily against him. He had an arm hooked around the teen's shoulders, keeping him upright.  
  
A gust of cold wind caught their wet clothing and Obi-Wan shuddered.  
  
"Let's stop for a moment," Qui-Gon suggested quietly.  
  
His apprentice halted abruptly and sagged against him.  
  
"We're almost there." The voice was dazed and soft.  
  
Qui-Gon helped him sit. He fumbled with the water flask he had acquired from the hostel owner and held it to Obi-Wan's bruised lips. He supported his Padawan's head while the youth drank.  
  
When he finished, Obi-Wan said again, "We're almost there." He stared at the gates of the Mienke Sector, now close enough to make out the skyscrapers and glint of ships coming and going, disappearing into the gray sky.  
  
Qui-Gon sipped from the flask as well before hooking it back onto his belt and nodded.  
  
"Yes, we are." He eyed his Padawan wearily. The pinched and confused look from the day before had returned. It was obvious that Obi-Wan was utterly drained, the surges of energy Qui-Gon sent him were ebbing away more quickly each time he sent them. Obi-Wan's body was in such dire need of strength that it sucked the Force powered aids dry immediately, like a parched mouth might when in indigence of water.  
  
Jagged lightning suddenly tore through the clouds overhead and an awesome clap of thunder followed suit. Qui-Gon grimaced as the rain poured anew. He looked down at Obi-Wan, but the young Jedi eluded his gaze.  
  
"Padawan-"  
  
He felt the boy raise exhausted shields in his mind. They were weak, hardly an obstacle for the Master, but served as a polite request not to offer any comfort.  
  
Qui-Gon clamped his mouth shut.  
  
Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed and found their way back the Mienke Sector.  
  
"We should go," he whispered, and Qui-Gon only just heard him over the downpour.  
  
He helped the young man stand and they continued the last leg of their journey.  
  
* * *  
  
Mienke was teeming with Rii'Diarians and off-worlders despite the weather. Much of the place was roofed so that business could continue during the common thunderstorms.  
  
Qui-Gon easily tread through the crowds, though, cradling Obi-Wan to his chest. The youth's broken leg, still supported by the brace, stuck out stiffly, awkwardly, and the Jedi Master made especial care not to let anyone or anything bump it.  
  
He clearly remembered where their ship was docked and his stride was brisk, the hundred forty plus pounds in his arms and the weariness settling over him notwithstanding.  
  
Qui-Gon glanced down at the face nestled against his shoulder and had to allow the briefest of smiles in spite of his concern.  
  
They had reached the Mienke Sector nearly seven long hours after beginning their journey. Obi-Wan had awarded him with the most brilliant smile Qui- Gon had ever seen and promptly collapsed.  
  
Qui-Gon was more than willing to cover this last, short distance for the two of them.  
  
He had briefly considered bringing his student to a medical center, but finally decided that he wanted to leave the planet as soon as they reached their ship. He knew he could care for Obi-Wan sufficiently enough on the way back to Coruscant and, once they returned healers at the Jedi Temple could take over.  
  
As he walked, Qui-Gon became aware of someone calling his name. Brows furrowed, he turned and searched the faces of the Rii'Diarians behind him.  
  
"Master Jinn! Master Jinn!"  
  
Then he caught sight of the short, compact figure waving its hands in the air for attention. The man rudely shoved past the throngs of citizens in his way and approached the Jedi, anger evident on his round face.  
  
"Where the -Sith- have you been?!"  
  
Obi-Wan stirred in Qui-Gon's arms and opened his eyes. The blue green orbs were cloudy and befuddled.  
  
"Who's talking, Master?" he croaked. "Who is it?" He concentrated his unfocused gaze on his teacher's beard and tried very hard at not being sick.  
  
"That, Obi-Wan," answered Qui-Gon, faintly amused and deeply disturbed, "is Minister Kai. Without his new Jedi escort." 


	6. Catharsis: 6

1 Note: You guys are too kind for words. Those little notes you send are sooo encouraging! Anyway, this is the action chapter I've been avoiding for so long, scared the crap out of me, but it wasn't really so bad. It even has some obligatory "mean-and-happy-at-the-same-time" bad guy moments. I'm thinking maybe one more chapter after this, and then I can get down to finishing the other fic I'm working on. I've learned a lesson from this one- at least have the story planned out first! Anyway, this is the way it is for Jaded1, who glared at me. LOL.  
  
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3 Catharsis: 6  
  
"New Jedi escort?" Minister Kai frowned. "What are you babbling about?"  
  
Qui-Gon's cheek twitched at the rudeness but his voice was calm. "The Jedi Council on Coruscant has sent another team to escort you to and from the trial. They should be here already."  
  
"Why the -sith- do I need a new team? Why didn't anyone tell me?"  
  
Obi-Wan gaped at the man.  
  
Qui-Gon forced his voice to remain steady. "My apprentice has been severely injured-"  
  
"Well, that's not -my- fault, is it?!" the minister exploded.  
  
Qui-Gon unconsciously held Obi-Wan tighter to him. His anger fairly radiated from him and he waited it out, staring hard down at the minister and clenching his jaw tightly.  
  
Minister Kai gulped at the sudden change in the Jedi's demeanor.  
  
"In all honesty, -Minister Kai-," Qui-Gon said evenly, "This is, in part, your fault." There was no missing the menace laced in his words. "If you had only followed the simple instructions I gave you-'don't leave the safe house,' 'don't speak to -anyone-'-this most likely would not have happened.  
  
Kai bristled but remained silent.  
  
"You seem so intent on putting your life at risk," Qui-Gon went on, "Why? Even now you're in danger. Bro'ven Shahn is searching for you as we speak." Qui-Gon could nearly smell the humiliation he had caused in the minister and was fiercely glad for a moment before he realized Obi-Wan was staring up at him worriedly.  
  
The Jedi Master's anger drained away and he blinked. He suddenly felt very embarrassed at his reaction, though he knew the words were true.  
  
He was not angry with the minister; not really. Frustrated, of course, monumentally, in fact, but not angry. Shahn had tortured Obi-Wan, not Kai. Kai was just dense when it came to himself, stupid, and Qui-Gon had to accept that.  
  
The Master drew in a deep breath and said, "You'll have to come with us, then."  
  
He did not apologize to the shuffling Rii'Diarian, figuring that this cowed minister would be easier to control, but assured Obi-Wan through their rejuvenated bond that he was all right, and gently coaxed the teenager back to sleep.  
  
"Go with-with you?" the minister repeated nervously, "But, what about the other Jedi?"  
  
Qui-Gon began to walk again and shrugged.  
  
"There's nothing we can do about them. They aren't in any danger."  
  
Kai followed close behind.  
  
"But-but maybe I can just go back to the safe house," he suggested weakly.  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head. "Too late. We can't risk bringing you back there, the other Jedi have found a new place for you to stay, but I don't know where that is."  
  
"What do I do, then?" The minister struggled to stay close in Qui-Gon's wake. The crowd seemed to part before the Jedi Master's sizable bearing.  
  
"You'll have to come back to Coruscant with us."  
  
"What?! Now, wait just a moment-" Kai grabbed hold of Qui-Gon's robe, halting him. His dogmatic nature had returned. When he had the Master's attention he let go. "Perhaps you've forgotten, Jinn, but there's a trial going on here that I -need- to attend and you were sent to protect me. I regret that your apprentice had to suffer-" He gestured quickly to the unconscious boy in Qui-Gon's arms, yellow eyes flitting to the battered face, then back, "-But that's a risk you knew you were going to take.  
  
"You -are- Jedi, after all," he added a beat later with a forced laugh, uncertain what to make of Qui-Gon's silence.  
  
The blue eyes hardened. "Oh- -are- we, Minister?"  
  
"Well-yes." Kai blinked. "Yes, I'm most certain you are."  
  
The Master shifted, seemed to grow taller, even broader to the minister.  
  
"What does that mean to you?"  
  
Kai drew himself up straight and puffed out his chest. He tilted his head back a ways so that he could peer down the considerable length of his nose at the Jedi.  
  
"What it -means- is-is-" He slumped and exhaled loudly, irritated. "Well- doesn't it mean you can fix him right up? Can't you work your magic-say a few chants and be done with it?" He planted his hands defiantly on his hips and said, "Really, Jinn. I wish you would quit mucking about and get that business over with. Then you could both get back to protecting -me-." He jerked a thumb to his chest. "That -is- why you're here, after all."  
  
Qui-Gon glared severely down at the minister and the man wilted under his stare.  
  
"Is that-is that not what being a Jedi means?" he stammered weakly. The crowd seemed to have diminished around them and Kai realized it was nearing suppertime. "I-uh." He struggled to regain some sort of pretence of his former composure but failed.  
  
Instead he gulped and stretched his thin lips into what he hoped was a passable smile. "Off to Coruscant, then," he said meekly, in a near whisper. One of Obi-Wan's arms hung limply from Qui-Gon's hold and Kai gingerly took the hand between thumb and forefinger, conspicuously avoiding the torn, raw skin of the slim wrist. He placed it atop the youth's chest and patted it lightly. Obi-Wan drew a sharp breath in his sleep and the hand slid away, dangling once more.  
  
Kai managed a weak smile but it faded as Qui-Gon snorted in detest.  
  
"Don't touch him," the puissant Jedi, and resumed his brisk walk to the docking platform.  
  
* * *  
  
Qui-Gon silently thanked the Force when their Republican shuttle came into view. It looked rather lonely, he thought, nestled in the center of a platform full of otherwise empty lots, but it encouraged Qui-Gon despite his weariness. He had quickened his strides upon sighting it but slowed in caution as he spotted a Rii'Diarian round the front of the ship, sliding one hand fondly along its hull.  
  
The unidentified man noticed and took two steps backward.  
  
Qui-Gon stopped uneasily. His trepidation stirred Obi-Wan awake.  
  
"What's happening?" he whispered, tensing in the midst of the disquiet.  
  
Qui-Gon started to answer him. "That man-"  
  
Kai scoffed. "It's probably just a mechanic."  
  
Qui-Gon shook his head, stood his ground. "In those clothes? Without a uniform? No-" He swallowed thickly as his senses screamed warning. "Kai, get back."  
  
"You dragged me all the way here, now let's just -go-!"  
  
Another man appeared, sauntering around from behind the shuttle.  
  
Qui-Gon narrowed his eyes.  
  
"Minister.!" he warned.  
  
"We should leave," Obi-Wan rasped, bringing a shaking hand to his temple. "We're not safe."  
  
Qui-Gon cradled him closer to his chest. Kai whirled around to face the two Jedi.  
  
"Your ship is -right there-!" He pointed. "Tell those two numb-heads to get lost and we'll go!"  
  
"No, Minister!" a voice called. "Don't go."  
  
Kai spun to face the new speaker and blanched.  
  
"Shahn!"  
  
The detrimental Rii'Diarian gave a fiendish grin and stepped forward. He and his two companions had their blasters trained on the trio. Qui-Gon noted that the one he had locked in the cell was not present.  
  
"Master Jinn, sir!" Shahn called giddily, "I honestly didn't expect you'd actually be bringing the minister -with- you. I suppose one should never underestimate a Jedi." Shahn's eyes narrowed as he took in the form of Obi- Wan, who stared back at him wide eyed. "I didn't expect him to make it this far, either," he admitted. Shahn shrugged his shoulders. "Doesn't matter. We just need the minister, anyhow."  
  
Qui-Gon knew what was coming next and quickly ran through his options. He became aware of Obi-Wan's hand digging down between them.  
  
"It's all right, Padawan." He sought to soothe the youth in what he refused to think of as their last moments. If he dropped Obi-Wan he could reach his lightsaber-but where would that leave the boy? He was not sure Obi-Wan could remain on his feet, let alone fight a battle.  
  
The hand insistently pushed deeper and he frowned, looking at his charge.  
  
He saw everything in the blue-green eyes of the apprentice; the plan unfolded in his mind and he nodded almost imperceptibly. He loosened his hold on Obi-Wan and the boy's right hand, concealed by his body and Qui- Gon's robe, slipped down to the Jedi Master's waist. He felt his lightsaber unclip from his belt and he suddenly thrust Obi-Wan forward.  
  
Two blasters went off nearly simultaneously, and Obi-Wan deflected the screeching bolts. He grit his teeth, biting back the pain that lanced up his leg when he hit the ground.  
  
The shots ricocheted, one going wild while the other caught its shooter in the chest. The Rii'Diarian staggered back, smacking his head against the body of the Republican shuttle. He slumped to the ground and was still.  
  
Qui-Gon grabbed his saber from Obi-Wan and shoved the boy behind him. He was counting on the fact that Bro'ven Shahn would not shoot Minister Kai but yelled at the man to get behind nearby supply crates, anyway. They would not offer much protection against blaster fire, but they would keep him out of the way.  
  
Obi-Wan struggled to find balance as he wielded his own lightsaber. He accepted the fact that he would not serve as much help in his condition, but was determined to do what he could to keep Shahn from accomplishing his goal.  
  
He wrapped himself in the Force and it responded eagerly to his call. He used it as a crutch to deaden the feeling in his broken leg. He knew Qui- Gon would not approve, but the situation was drastic. He assented to the risks such an action most certainly entailed-after all, what was pain but a warning that something was wrong or being misused?  
  
Shahn and his remaining cohort had cleared the path to the shuttle and Obi- Wan threw himself forward, gathering strength he knew he should not have.  
  
His body thrived on the adrenaline rush that surged through him, and he soon found himself at the hull of the shuttle. He pounded in the code and the ramp descended with a hiss. He pulled himself onto it as soon as he could and stumbled into the cockpit.  
  
Obi-Wan fell into the pilot's chair and warmed the engine. His fingers danced over the controls and soon the ship hovered in the air. He searched the viewport and found his Master where he had left him, still exchanging shots with Shahn.  
  
The other Rii'Diarian was clutching his shoulder as if injured and staring down at his weapon, a panicked expression twisting his smooth features. Obi- Wan presumed the blaster was overheated. Soon the man was back in the fight, circling Qui-Gon, making his way around to Minister Kai.  
  
Obi-Wan found himself guilty of wishing their ship had weapons. Instead he moved the craft forward, as if meaning to bowl the attacking Rii'Diarian over. The man scattered away and Obi-Wan rested the ship between his Master and Minister Kai's crates. It gently hovered just above the ground and, once he was sure it was stable, he stood.  
  
Obi-Wan reeled momentarily, pitching forward with a cry. The temporary barriers he had created to ward off the pain of his injuries had weakened since he had taken control of the ship, and with his new movement had been all but blown completely away.  
  
He gasped into the floor panels and screwed his eyes shut. He did not move for a moment, only crouched ball-like on the deck and gathered himself. He bound strands of Force power to his fatigued muscles and shakily pushed himself up, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he dragged himself out of the cockpit and to the docking ramp. Spots blotted his vision and hazy swirls of red and yellow ate up the edges of it.  
  
He hooked his arm around an axle to keep himself upright and lifted his lightsaber. He glanced back at Minister Kai and nodded. Activating the weapon in his hand, he focused on the thrum of the blue blade, using it to keep him anchored to the situation.  
  
He deflected shots aimed for the man behind him sprinting toward the ship. Soon he could hear the minister's boot heels clicking against the metal of the ramp. He swung himself inside and fell against the decking once more. He sent a short message to his Master through their bond.  
  
//Got him.//  
  
His eyes tracked a path up to the minister's face.  
  
"Can you pilot this ship?" His voice sounded dull and weak to his ears.  
  
Kai nodded, staring down at the Padawan in amazement.  
  
"Do you think-" he began, then stopped. "Are you all right?" the man asked quietly.  
  
Obi-Wan ignored the question-did not want to think about the answer or the implications it brought on. He waved to the cockpit and gasped, "Go!"  
  
The minister nodded and disappeared. Soon the ship shuddered and lifted, slowly and gingerly.  
  
//Master!//  
  
"I'm here, Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon leaped and hooked his fingers in the grating of the ramp.  
  
"I hit him," he grunted, pulling himself up. Obi-Wan moved forward to help. "Don't know how bad."  
  
The ship suddenly lurched violently. The outer body of the craft squealed as it scraped against metal conductor poles. Qui-Gon remained safely onboard, but Obi-Wan rolled past him. His fingers scrabbled for a grip on the sharp grating of the ramp. A faint cry of apology from the cockpit went unheard.  
  
"Obi-Wan!" Qui-Gon roared, just catching sight of Shahn grabbing for his Padawan's legs.  
  
Obi-Wan cried out in startled agony, fire lancing up to his hip. His injured shoulder protested at the treatment and his sore ribs banged against the edge of the ramp. His swollen fingers begged to let go.  
  
The craft rose higher in the air, gaining speed.  
  
Winds from the returning storm buffeted Obi-Wan's body and he tried to wriggle free, but Shahn's grasp was unyielding. He found it was all he could do to hold onto the ramp, but Qui-Gon had his feet braced firmly on the wall at either side of the opening and had an iron like grip on his Padawan's arms.  
  
"Come on, Obi-Wan!"  
  
Carefully, and without loosening his grip, Qui-Gon leaned forward. He changed his position so he could lean over the side while still pulling his apprentice on board.  
  
He quickly found the face of Bro'ven Shahn staring desperately up at him. Qui-Gon curled his hand into a fist and smashed it into the Rii'Diarian's face. It only took one more blow to send Shahn tumbling back down to the permacrete below. Rain pelted the horrified face and he vanished from Qui- Gon's view.  
  
Without the man's added weight it was a simple matter of pulling Obi-Wan back on board.  
  
Qui-Gon palmed the ramp's controls and fell back onto the floor panels. Obi- Wan lay next to him, shaking softly and staring wildly at the sealed hull of the ship. Qui-Gon pulled his Padawan to him in a rough and protective hug.  
  
After a moment Obi-Wan spoke.  
  
"Master?" he questioned. The fabric pressed against his face muffled his voice.  
  
"Gods, Obi-Wan. That was too close." Qui-Gon could not help rocking the boy a bit, seeking to assure himself that his Padawan was safe, soothe his frazzled nerves.  
  
Obi-Wan shivered as the events caught up with him. He gingerly shifted in his Master's embrace and nodded.  
  
"Yes," he conceded with a sigh, "Too close." 


	7. Catharsis: 7

1 Note: This is mush, mush, MUSH the whole short way through. Thank you all once again for boosting my confidence with those lovely reviews. They've really encouraged me to want to post more on this site and I hope to do so and read more fic from all of you soon.  
  
2  
  
3 Catharsis: 7  
  
Weariness had entwined itself deeply within Obi-Wan's bones and he felt so overly exhausted that he thought he might sleep for days without waking.  
  
He smiled faintly, letting Qui-Gon ease him down onto the cot in the tiny resting compartment.  
  
"What's so amusing, Padawan?" Qui-Gon removed the youth's boots and stowed them under the bed.  
  
"I'm just looking forward to sleeping. Not sure when I might want to wake up."  
  
Qui-Gon looked askance at his apprentice, unfastening the dirty tunic. "I'd say you could take your time-but the ride back to Coruscant is only a few hours and the healers are going to want to have a look at you as soon as we get there."  
  
"Oh," Obi-Wan said dispiritedly. "I forgot." He turned doleful eyes on his Master. "Do you think they'll keep me for very long?"  
  
"Perhaps only a few days." Qui-Gon inspected the red welts on the Padawan's back, thinning his lips at the cruel marks. He sat back and caught Obi- Wan's eye. "Does your chest still hurt?"  
  
The teen hesitated only a second before affirming the question with a nod.  
  
Qui-Gon slumped forward, dropping for a moment his stern and collected countenance, and braced his elbows on his knees.  
  
"Do you think something is broken?" he inquired quietly, reaching out to gently prod the bruises.  
  
"Ow!" Obi-Wan shrank back with a scowl. "Maybe."  
  
Qui-Gon's answering chuckle was jaded and soft, and he leaned back in his seat. He regarded his Padawan seriously for a moment.  
  
The teen forced himself not to squirm under the stare and met it soberly. "Master?"  
  
Qui-Gon gestured at the cot. "Lie down, Obi-Wan."  
  
The boy obeyed, stiffly lowering himself down to the flimsy mattress. Immediately, the effects of relaxing onto the cot seeped through him and he groaned. The tenseness seemed to flee his muscles, leave his over wrought body. He knew he had stretched his boundaries that day; broken his limits. While part of him recognized the danger in that, for he knew he would be paying back with an abundance of aches for weeks to come, he could not help the smug sense of satisfaction that arose each time he thought of the seven hour trek to the Mienke Sector and the brief, yet vital, part he had played in their escape.  
  
Even as the horrors that had been inflicted upon him just over the past few days were still painfully fresh in his mind and on his body, Obi-Wan's fears had been put to rest. Qui-Gon still respected him, loved, -wanted- him. The older man had trusted him to carry out his plan and he had done so. He realized that his physical injuries were merely set backs and his early notions of failure could, in fact, be seen as lessons to learn from, albeit severe ones.  
  
But wasn't that what Qui-Gon was always telling him, anyway?  
  
~"Life is one long learning experience, Padawan; a series of tests. Whether you pass or fail them is unimportant. You must only remember to retain the knowledge you gain from these tests and use it in the future."~  
  
Obi-Wan had learned quite a few things, especially about himself. He looked up at his Master expectantly.  
  
"Padawan," Qui-Gon said, covering Obi-Wan with the thick expanse of a warm and heavy blanket, "I need you to know how sorry I am that this happened to you-that I was unable to detect Shahn's presence soon enough in either case." He spoke gravely and Obi-Wan let him continue uninterrupted.  
  
"But I also need you to know this. I understand if this does not mean much to you, Obi-Wan, but I am so proud of you. You have accomplished so much in less than two days-" He spread his palms outward in a gesture of helplessness, though Obi-Wan knew his Master was anything but. "It truly amazes me."  
  
Obi-Wan fairly beamed up at the man.  
  
"It means the galaxy to me, Master, and I don't blame you for a thing."  
  
Qui-Gon touched the boy's brow briefly in an act of fondess and smiled deeply, his eyes sparkling in the artificial light.  
  
"Get rest, now, my Obi-Wan, and I'll wake you in when we arrive."  
  
The End 


End file.
